The Voice in my Head: Eva Evita Peron
by Bustornugget
Summary: Argentina cries for "Evita!" but the only thing Eva Peron hears is Che's mocking voice.


**Summary: Eva is becoming mad of the constant taunting of Che. Eva desperately tries to rekindle her romance with Juan. Later, Juan dreams of a terrible tragedy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Evita the musical belongs to the Really Useful Group and the real characters belong to themselves.**

The Voice in My Head: Eva "Evita" Peron

"Evita!" cried the crowd. "We want Evita!" they cried once more, with thrice as much force as before. Juan stepped away from the Casa Rosada balcony. Looking down he recalled being pushed away by the crowd again, perhaps it happened every time the poor gathered around the pink palace. Juan slowly began walking to his Eva's room. He knocked on the door, quietly.

"No...No…you don't mean that. It isn't true, it's not! Oh, how dare you!" screamed Eva as a loud crash of a vase echoed through the halls the house.

"Darling, the descamisados!" shouted Juan, knowing what word would help his Eva wake from her "tough time". No sooner than the ending of the last syllable spat out of his mouth that Eva stepped out of her room, fully recovered, for now.

"They need me, don't they?" called Eva to her husband.

"Yes, and you need them, remember that"

Eva was already out in the balcony, concocting another one of her brilliant speeches out of her Dior hat.

"My descamisados!" she called and they answered.

"Evita! God praise Evita!"

"My descamisados…"

"Evita! How they love you, but do they know you?" taunted a very familiar voice.

"You don't know anything about me!"

"But Eva, I have been there when you left for Buenos Aires"

"You lie, Che! You lie to me!" she charged at the figure of Che, but he was gone, just the wall remained.

"Eva, Eva!" taunted the voice of Che, but it slowly faded into the loving calls of Juan. Juan cradled his wife, calming her with words. "Eva, Eva, don't talk like this,"

"Che, Che is the one making me like this; he knows things that I don't know!"

"Che, who's Che?"

Eva did not answer; she only looked up at the swarms of servants and politicians gathering around the spectacle. Juan smiled at them nervously, kissing Eva's head."My wife likes to joke!" he chuckled, helping Eva stand back up. "Nothing is wrong!" he nervously bluffed.

"I will retire for the evening," whispered Eva, signaling for her husband to leave the room. "I would like to be alone"

Eva rubbed her head, feeling a headache slowly creeping in. Nothing was going fine anymore, there were more issues to be dealt with and the economy was getting worse. Eva was tired, being adored by millions was taking a toll on her. Everything was easier when she first met Juan; there were no troubles to deal with. But Eva didn't want to be in that position again, she liked being the goddess of Argentina.

"You call yourself a goddess! Is the title of Saint not big enough for you?" mocked Che as he walked through the hallway, waving his hands in the air.

"Get out," motioned Eva tiredly. Che smiled coyly and sat next to Eva on the floor.

"Alright, Santa Evita, why such an unhappy tone?"

"Don't even pretend to know what I have to do to govern a country"

"But you don't govern Argentina, you prance around the city like a spoiled child," he sneered, taking Eva's feathered hat and mockingly modeling it. Eva snatched it back.

"Che, why do you treat me like this? Why do you mock me?" Eva questioned, looking at Che in confusion.

"It is because we are two separate beings, both with different political and cultural views. I was sent to you to be your constant oppose. No matter what I will always hate you and you will always hate me," Che sincerely answered. "I will never lend you my hand when you fall," he left the room, tipping his hat off to Eva.

Eva stood back up, picking up a pile of papers that needed to be organized. _This is getting impossible. I really can't work like this anymore. _Eva put the papers back in the bin.

"Juan," Eva called. "Juan, can you come here for a moment?" she asked, solemnly.

"Why do you want me?" he answered from his office, irritated.

"Just come, Juan!" she protested against his unwillingness. There was a loud groan from Juan, he wasn't one for interruptions. Eva briefly smiled at Juan, brushing the hair out of his worn face. "Juan, do you remember the day we met?"

"Of course, Eva, why are you asking me this?"

"I want to go back there, Juan. Can we pretend that we were at the Charity Concert again?"

"Eva, why are you acting like this?" spoke the concerned Juan Peron. Eva didn't hear him, or ignored it, Juan couldn't read her. Eva grabbed her fur stole and restyled her hair.

"Alright, ok if you don't remember the exact words we can just make them up. Now I am a famous actress, and you are that dashing colonel. Ok, you just got off the stage and I bump in to you. I will start, you follow. Colonel Peron?"

"Eva, really, why are you doing this?"

"I've heard so much about you!" Eva ignored him once again.

"Eva, please, can we do this a different time?" Eva glared at him as he spoke. "How about we pretend in our minds, will that work?"

"Fine, only if we dance, does that seem fair?" Eva chuckled, putting on one of the old records. She put her arms around Juan, starring into his eyes as the elegantly strolled across the room. "Juan, you know that I love you?"

"Yes, I know" Juan smiled, kissing his darling Eva passionately.

Later, Juan woke up; a night terror awoke the sleeping man. He scrambled to his feet, putting on his robe quickly and running to get a drink of water. _It's not true, it is just a dream. For God's sake Juan, get it together! _Juan dosed himself with his water, trying to calm himself down. Water wasn't doing it for him, it had no substance. He needed a real drink, something strong. While opening the liquor cabinet he felt a warm puff of breath on the side of his face.

"Juan?" Eva said. "What are you doing?" Juan's watery eyes looked up at his tiny wife. Juan hugged her tightly, refusing to let go.

"Eva, don't go away"


End file.
